


Touch Me (Trust Me)

by flickawhip



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:09:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27713876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flickawhip/pseuds/flickawhip
Summary: An emotionally wrung out Rita needs a little help letting the day go...Sub!Rita/Dom!Reader
Relationships: Rita Calhoun/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 6





	Touch Me (Trust Me)

There’s a change that happens when Rita comes to you tonight. Usually she’s walking tall, proud, striding. Tonight she is small, tired, miserable. She won, but you can see now she didn’t want this win. 

“What’s wrong?”

You speak softly, move to make her look at you. 

“He was so… he reminded me of…”

Her words die and you know, reading the way she trembles. It is easy to frame her face in your hands, stroke tears from her cheeks. You kiss her gently, then speak softly. 

“What do you need, my Rita?”

“You… please.”

You can’t help the smile you give her, kissing her again, softly but deeply. She is sweet like this, soft, needy, hurting. You help her undress, naturally, slowly, taking her in inch by inch, covering her face and neck in gentle, possessive, kisses. She trembles again under your lips and you smile sadly, lead her to the bed, settle her there, remembering the first time she came to you like this. 

She lies still, surprisingly small and delicate even as you move to undress yourself, assessing her needs even when she can’t give you a guide beyond begging for you. For a chance to give up control. She seems sad tonight, needy but scared. You won’t hurt her, just treasure her. 

You move away from your usual controlling tactics, she won’t respond well with those, not with what she’s remembering. You pick the softer tactics, guide her into position but don’t tie her there, this time, choosing instead to plait her hair gently. She shivers, eyes closing, almost tearful. 

“Oh I know, my sweet girl.”

You speak softly, treasuring the way she looks back at you when she opens her eyes. Tearful, but calm. Trusting. It’s easy to stroke a hand over her, note the shivers and flinches, assessing what she can and cannot handle. 

She rewards your gentleness with a near sob of pleasure when you finally touch her, cupping her in your hands, noting the way she rises to push her body into your hands, her chest, always sensitive, already flushing. 

“Good girl…”

She gasps softly when you kiss her neck, trailing soft hands lower, lingering at her hips, holding her there as you take your time with her, nipping softly at her neck and enjoying the whine it gets in response. 

“You. Are. Mine.”

You speak softly, nipping her neck again and smirking when her hands rest on your shoulders, then flicker back to their old positions. She’s used to being tied down, held, controlled. You normally would but you saw how hurt she was earlier and you refuse to trigger her even slightly. 

“It’s okay, you can touch.”

She cries then, wrapping her arms tight around your neck, burrowing her face into it. You keep her still again, give her time, let her cry, a hand rising to stroke her back gently. 

“Shhh, shhh, sweet girl… I’m here now.”

She steadies slowly, gasping out a soft noise of surprise when you change positions, pulling her into your lap so you can see her more clearly, the way her back arches showing how much she still wants you, still wants what was going to happen before.

She keeps her grip around your neck, delicate, long fingered hands moving across her own arms and your neck, fingers sliding into your hair when you kiss her, running your own arm around her to cup the back of her neck, forcing her to meet your eyes, even as you ever so slightly squeeze her neck, feeling her shiver and running your other hand over her thigh. 

“Look at me Sweetheart…”

She does, nervous but trusting, shivering when finally you palm her in your hand, her buck and whine instant even as she keeps her eyes on you, letting you slide fingers inside her, the resulting gasp turning to a near mewl of want, of need. 

“Good girl, that’s my girl.”

You sooth her gently even as you make your pace, focusing on her even as you bring her over the edge slowly, once, then twice, you change your pace a few times, never too fast or too hard but firm. A claim. She whines when you continue, burrowing her head against your neck with a whined ‘please’. Once, then twice. ‘Please’. You keep the pace slow, slightly mesmerised by how soft she is like this, tired and needy and pleasured at the same time. She meets your pace slowly, trustingly, her grip tightening on you even as you let her finally have a little more pace. 

“Fuck…”

She pants the word, bucking hard against your pace and tempting you to take her more firmly. You don’t, at first, then, when she begs, and she does beg, softly, you let her have more. 

“Oh god…”

She rarely calls for god, but you can’t help being proud. 

“Let it go Sweetheart… I’m here… let me see you.”

She does, bucking wildly and almost sobbing against your neck, finally, finally relaxed. 

“Good girl.”

You speak softly, guide her down tenderly before settling her on the bed, keeping her turned against you, stroking her hip and back softly. 

“My Rita… so beautiful.”

She sighs softly, a sound you swear you’ll never forget. Happy, content, sleepy and for once peaceful. She’s beautiful like this, even when she sleeps, curled into you with a grip at your waist that’s almost a claim itself. You can’t deny her, not after days like today. It’s so rare to be hers like this, but you love that she trusts you enough to show when she’s hurting. When she needs someone to take over.


End file.
